


Hanging Out

by westcoastmalone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Maybe OT3 if you squint, gratuitous ogling, i'm not that great, inspired by mirror mirror, or at least my attempt at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westcoastmalone/pseuds/westcoastmalone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Napoleon have gotten themselves in a spot trouble; no weapons, no plan, no clothes.  And to top if all off, they're hanging upside down and if they don't get out of here before Gaby finds them, she'll never let them live it down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging Out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the scene in Mirror Mirror where the Prince (Armie Hammer) is hanging upside down, in his skivies, tied to his servant and is rescued by Snow White

Napoleon hated being drugged. It was the awful pattern of vertigo, nothingness, and then nausea but it also may have something to do with the fact that one is never quite prepared to be drugged (the whole point of drugging someone he knows, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it). So while it didn’t happen often, Solo knew that one shouldn’t fight the drug; either call for help, or get comfortable because running would only make it worse and you could lose valuable time extracting information (because no one watches their tongue around the drugged man, or takes him seriously).

So when the darkness faded and the nausea kicked in, Solo wasn’t too concerned that the world was upside down. When it didn’t re-invert itself with his first three breaths though, the American started to wonder what fresh hell he had been dosed with. As he continued to take stock of the situation – numb legs, vicious headache, shoulders pulled in an odd direction and arms unmoving to expectation, and something jostling him constantly – the resulting situation made him wish it was a new drug that was introduced into his system.

“Peril?”

“Yes Cowboy?”

“Are those your arms around me?”

“Yes”

“And mine are around you correct?”

“Yes”

“Excellent. Then I merely need to know, how naked are we?” the warmth across his chest was definitely more skin, but the feeling stopped around his sternum.

“Don’t worry Cowboy, modesty is still intact” Illya’ joke was interrupted by the man giving another hard yank on the bindings on his arms. There wasn’t a lot of give, and he needed to get some mobility if he was to work around his partner and get them loose.

“That’s comfort beyond belief. Do we know how long we’ve been hanging?” Napoleon gave his own arms a tug, but the ropes (or chains, he wasn’t sure, his fingers were tingly and he didn’t have a good sightline) wouldn’t budge.

“Five minutes, maybe seven. I have approximately 8 minutes before I am unconscious” it was testament to the KGB’s efficiency that their agent was so aware of his limits. The only thing Kuryakin so far hadn’t been able to tell U.N.C.L.E, or his partners therein, were his tolerance towards radiation exposure.

“Then we better get a move on” Solo tried twisting his arms, pulling and even thumping them against his partner’s back, anything to try and get them looser. While the CIA agent didn’t know how long he had before he would pass out, he didn’t think he had the tolerance of the Red Peril.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t have to be tested yet. Just when Napoleon’s vision started to get spotty, a rat-at-tat of gunfire and shouting echoed down from whatever hallway.

“Sounds like the marines are coming” Solo felt a little of the tension leave him at the sound of the approaching attack. Whether friend or foe, very soon he wouldn’t have that pounding headache anymore.

“I do not need rescuing” Illya was stubbornness was legendary amongst the agency by now. He ‘didn’t need rescuing’ a total of thirteen times by his own partners (14 if you included Rome, which Napoleon loved to remind him of), and another five times by Waverly’s personal army, and twice by an external agency (once by the CIA and once by the Canadian intelligence) in his duration at U.N.C.L.E.

“Of course you don’t” Solo learned it was easier to agree with the Russian than to argue with him over his self-sufficiency. “I, however, do need it, as your spine is in my way of completing the task myself” a little snide remark however, could be used to illicit a reaction.

“If I am with another KGB agent, we would be free long ago, and not need assistance from little chop shop girl”

“Now Peril, we can’t be ashamed of needing-“ 

“You want Gaby to rescue you when you are undressed?”

Napoleon thought for half a second, “Can’t you dislocate your thumb or something?”

“Have been trying. Numb hand makes this very difficult”

“Dammit, we need to get out of these” Solo had no trouble being rescued by anyone, but Gaby would make it darn right miserable. So the men pulled on their arms strong enough to send them lightly swinging.

As a team, there had been several times where one, or all three, had to be partially or fully undressed for one reason or another. Each time the others had politely looked away, or maintained a work ethic to make the make as non-problematic as possible. Gaby had always appreciated this, new to the game and all, and far more likely to need a costume change from something more fashionable to more utilitarian or inconspicuous. However, those moments were required for a mission, not because they needed rescuing. 

Gaby Teller was a fantastic agent on the rise; she was after all being tutored by the best America and Russia had to offer. Without having any training she was able to complete her first mission, and over the months had honed her skills at various tasks, earning her place to be paired with U.N.C.L.E’s number one and number two agents. She was still the brash young woman Napoleon had found in East Berlin though, and still ‘little chop shop girl’ who showed no fear in tackling a man nearly a foot taller than her to the ground.

Each man refused to be rescued by her while they were suspended, upside down, minimally injured (dislocated thumb non-withstanding if Illya was able to accomplish that), and naked. Male pride would not allow for it, and their struggles increased

“How much longer-“

“Would you-“

“I think I have-“

“Just shut up and-“

A bang of a door and an unlady-like snort of laughter stopped their arguing.

“Gaby! How nice of you to join us” Napoleon, ever suave, ever in control, would not let this predicament be the end of him. He swore on his father’s grave, that he would maintain his dignity; even if he could feel his heartbeat in his face. Napoleon Solo would not let his young friend make this worse.

“How did you-no never mind- I don’t need to know” Gaby tried to stifle her giggles, but failed. Never did she think she’d find her partners in such a ridiculous situation. “Oh how I wish there was a camera, the ladies at the office would pay-“

“Just get us down” Illya calculated that he had another 4 minutes before his brain would succumb to the extra blood pooling in his skull, but maybe he was wrong and he would pass out before that and save himself from having to face Gaby directly in his underclothes.

Gaby knelt down so that she was closer to their suspended heads and smiled down at Napoleon, “Say please...”. How she could make that sound like a filthy promise Solo couldn’t tell you, but felt that maybe he should take lessons for that neat trick.

“You are not acting as good agent. Assisting teammates important part of –“

“Please” while neither man could say it out loud, Napoleon could mouth the word to her. He didn’t fancy passing out now, and the way the Red Peril was going, both of them would be need medical help by the end of this.

“Was that so hard?” Gaby’s smile was something tangible in her voice. She gave a quick glance around the room. While it didn’t reveal an obvious answer to lower the gentlemen to the ground, but there was a key on a table to at least unlock the pairs’ hands from their medieval shackles.

Both men felt their hands fall limply to the floor the second the handcuffs were loose, and Napoleon was happy to see that Kuryakin had not been successful in the dislocation of his thumb; that would have just been embarrassing. A failed escape attempt would have made the teasing so much worse.

“Alright boys, brace yourselves” Gaby tried to feel bad about this, but she didn’t; It was nice to be the solo rescuer here. Raising her sidearm, Gaby fired three shots at the winch suspending her partners.

Partners’ whose hand’s had not had enough time to regain feeling and strength to fully support the fall. They were a tangle of limbs that refused to respond to proper nerve impulses and swearing for too long, and Gaby had to delicately kneel down with them to try and rub some life back into arms and legs.

All the while not trying to laugh and ogle at the same time. The men were pouting of all things, and Ilya looked adorable attempting to salvage her respect.

“I have to say Cowboy, you do not look good with red face” Illya tried to draw his attention away from Gaby encouraging bloody to flow in his arm, and look for clothes at the same time.

“Likewise Peril” Napoleon would love a snapshot of this moment, something to blackmail the KGB agent with years down the road.

“Listen boys, we need to get a move on. Our distractions going to be used up in about another ten minutes, and we need to be gone by that time if we want a go ahead with phase three” Gaby had switched to helping the American get some feeling back in his right leg. “And I am very much looking forward to phase three”

“Yes yes yes, first though, where are our clothes?” Solo wasn’t prepared to run around undressed. Not without an angry husband chasing him at least.

“They are not here comrade” Illya felt that this should be left out of his report to Waverly and the co-report to Oleg. His nudity, and humiliation need not leave this compound with enough bribery for his two teammates.

“Of course they aren’t” Napoleon wanted a stiff drink, one that wasn’t laced with something else....

“Pipe down you big babies” Gaby tried not to smile too much as she retrieved two pistols from the bag slung over her shoulder. “There’s enough guards around the upper levels we’ll find something for you, just don’t catch a chill until then”.

Another rumble ricocheted down the hallway.

“That would be a five minute warning, let’s get a move on!” Gaby pushed the pair of broad shoulders ahead of her. Napoleon was able to stumble along first, but their Russian followed as quick as he was able, allowing the female to stare unabashedly at their backs and backsides.

Solo’s was barely covered in some brightly coloured, polka dotted fabric, which looked comical next to Illya’s stark white shorts. However both garments cupped them so nicely that Gaby couldn’t help her soft exclamation;

“Herrlich”

She then watched the slight clenching of two pairs of cheeks, while two unseen pairs darkened with a blush. Gaby would enjoy the upcoming weeks, making sure the boys packed extra pairs of clothes, hiding a sock or two on them, and bringing this up as many times as she possibly could before it got tired.


End file.
